


Worth It

by opti



Category: Parks and Recreation
Genre: Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Porn, Smut, Workplace Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-06
Updated: 2015-05-06
Packaged: 2018-03-29 03:51:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3881185
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/opti/pseuds/opti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“It’s… it’s worth the risk,” Leslie says before she rolls her lips and he goes in for another kiss, hating the distance between them in that second.</p><p>Followup to <a href="http://archiveofourown.org/works/3809008">Give In</a>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Worth It

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ashisfriendly](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisfriendly/gifts).



> So it's time for my half of whatever exchange-gift thingamawhatever with Ashley, part two.
> 
> I decided to do a followup because it's the easier way out. Much easier than thinking about what goes down in the "plot" that this thing has. Which is... not a lot. Do with that info what you will.

It happens when they’re in the car back to Pawnee - Leslie keeps giving Ben _those_ eyes, the ones that he usually assumes are silently berating him with kindness. There’s something else there, and he finally gets that all this time she’s been sizing him up, and if he’s reading the signals right, if the night before is what he’d call giving signals, she’s asking several questions. The first is at the nearest rest stop, asking if the stalls would fit them both and wondering just how long it would take for Chris to get suspicious. Or at the next, terrible diner where they could figure _something_ out. He really, really considers all of them but there’s something in his head that just smiles at her instead.

The stupid doubts and worries keep cropping up, focusing on the road and not on the way she looks in the same sweats she was wearing the night before. Really, he should let that night just fade away from memory forever. That’s a lie and he knows it, so he thinks about her smile instead - that same way she keeps giving him absentmindedly when Chris keeps bringing up how good of a team they are. The dynamic duo, he says, and all he can think about is how _close_ it all was. That silences his mind, turning instead to the road and to getting back to Pawnee without thinking about Leslie sans-clothes.

The drive is _excruciating_.

City Hall isn’t much better. Thankfully interaction with the Parks department is low, and the most he has to do is listen to Chris constantly praise him - him, everyone in a five mile radius, everything that inhabits the planet Earth - and deliver _one_ file. Walking down to the department takes a measly few minutes that each feel like days of worry, playing out every interaction with her possible, and  Ron is barely cognizant of his presence, and honestly might have heard him enter but clearly doesn’t care a bit, and the usual gang is missing. Donna’s desk, empty. Jerry’s, who knows or cares Ben doesn’t really look. He doesn’t want to know what April and Andy are doing, though if someone told him which room they were doing whatever that was he’d feel safer, and then there’s Leslie. He’s supposed to drop a folder off at her desk. It’s as simple as that, that’s _it_. Just give her the folder, Ben.

He repeats it in his head: _Just give her the folder_.

He walks closer and she smiles at him, noticing his entrance. The way her eyes light up just then makes him return it like he’s never been happier to see someone smile, and he means it. The way a smile curves tells a lot about the people behind it, and Leslie’s is every bit as bright and determined as she is until he’s at the door and realizes he’s been staring at he. That doesn’t seem to bother her, and he’s never been happier about the way she shifts in her chair and greets him.

 _Just give her the folder_ , he thinks. 

“Leslie,” he nods curtly, staring at the floor.

There’s a moment there where he isn’t sure what to do, or what to think. It’s not like they’re strangers. Hell, they’re _definitely_ not strangers judging by what happened in Chris’s condo. So he should be able to look her in the eyes. Turning up, she’s staring at him and he feels like an awkward teenager all over again with this uncomfortable anxiety between them.

“Ben,” she returns in the same, oddly professional tone.

“I have… something for you,” he leans in to hand her the folder, his torso going farther than his legs like he doesn’t want to be near her. “Folders. _Folder_ , singular. Just one, so don’t get too excited about it. I only like one folder, anyway. These are just… for you-”

“Documents,” she nods, trailing off on the last syllable. “That are important enough to get done, and need done.”

“I’d do them, but I don’t think I can,” Ben says with a shiver all over.

“I’m sure they’d be okay with how you do them,” Leslie’s eyes wander past him through Ron’s office windows and back to him. “City Hall has very specific requests, too. They want paperwork filled out… properly.”

“And they deserve to be filled out properly,” he stutters out, unsure why the hell he’s getting a little hard at this talk. Oh, right - Leslie’s terrible with metaphors. 

So is he.

“They want one specific… way of being filled,” she gulps and he’s seen that little movement of her throat before, felt it, and has to strangle a deep sigh in his chest. “By one person.”

“I think the folder needs filled out by someone who can really give those documents all they deserve, and won’t get them… burned,” he squints at her, trying to gauge what the hell’s even happening right now.

Something’s telling him this is oddly _hot_ and the way Leslie refuses to look away from him is as terrifying as it is exhilarating. Partly, he wants to throw her against the wall and he kind of also wants to give her some papers that really only need a signature and run as far away as possible as fast as possible. Both are equally strong urges, one of them fueled by distinct blood flow and the other one his conscience telling him how bad of an idea this is. When did that ever stop him before, though?

Usually when she’s wearing a low-cut blouse and he’s trying to convince every muscle in his body and each one of his brain cells to not focus _everything_ on that Ben has trouble. He’s pretty sure of what she’s saying, but what if he’s wrong? He’s never been great at reading signals, or at least acting out on them when it could be anything remotely good for him. Good, entirely, for him and really kind of frightening and dangerous for her.

“I think those documents know exactly who they want filling them,” she pushes herself away from her desk and it’s all of a sudden obvious to him how heavy her breaths are. “Where they want it. When.”

He realizes his are maybe just as leaden, thick in his chest when she says that. “Now,” he mutters barely loud enough for her to hear.

The folder lays forgotten on her desk when it happens.

How it happens, he doesn’t know. Well, he’s pretty certain they nearly attack each other on the spot. Kissing feels more intimate than what they’ve already done, and his hand goes to her jawline just to hold her and feel her even closer. What Ben doesn’t really understand is how they end up leaving her office unnoticed - _thank you, Ron_ he wants to scream at the top of his lungs - and how she leads him to an unattended conference room. Then again, of course Leslie knows which rooms are free and effortlessly deciphers which one they need in the blink of an eye. Ben wouldn’t believe her aimlessly searching for a room or blindly choosing one, because it’s almost like she’s planned for this eventuality which is, frankly, hot as hell.

The door slams behind them and he’s never been at a woman faster in his life. Ben barely checks to see if there are windows, but again he trusts her. Her lips eagerly meet his every time, and that little anxious teenager is screaming at him that this is all a dream but it doesn’t matter. Leslie’s hands are fast at his belt, so quick he isn’t even sure he wore one to work today, and it’s only moments before she’s backed up into a wall.

His hand rides up her legs, eagerly pressing between them.

“Are you sure about this?” he asks without thinking, massaging her thighs and wondering just how good it’d feel to repeat everything from before just at City Hall. “I mean-”

“I know what you mean,” she interrupts before kissing him again, arching her body against his and Ben’s dying to get his hands beneath her blouse where they touch. “It’s a stupid rule and I need this. You, I need you Ben.”

“You could get fired, Leslie,” he states.

“We could both lose our jobs,” Leslie mumbles before she kisses just under his chin near his Adam’s apple and he actually _growls_ at the contact.

“This could destroy everything you’ve worked so hard for,” he whispers, clutching her head and watching her slowly look back up at him.

Leslie stares. His hand still works down to her buttons all the while, of a single mind and only really interested in one thing. She stares at him the whole time his fingers work until she’s only in that blouse and her pants have fallen to the floor. He doesn’t dare look away, let alone down at her where his hand gently rests on her as pure warm and tantalizing as the first time. Hands in his hair stay their movements until he’s worried what he said was wrong or the wrong vibe or anything that could ruin this. He rubs smoothly in a tight circle, feeling her body jolt awake and squeeze closer to him.

Then her lips meet his in a clash that forces his hand deeper, downward, until he’s touching her again through soaked underwear. Which part turned her on, he doesn’t really know. Hell, he isn’t sure how Leslie finds anything he does attractive, but there isn’t a second he looks that gift in the mouth. Moaning between his teeth, caught in a slight gasp when he just lightly teases at parting her lips, Leslie hastily undoes his belt. His entire body seems to conform to her at once like he’s been dying to find out which curves of her fit his thin form and where he can most comfortable fit his whole body against the contours of her legs. Not aware that he’s even doing it, his hands fondle her breasts with a rough grip that he wills himself to ease up on. One hand snakes behind her and her bra follows suit with the rest of her clothes. Maybe it’s a mistake, but putting his mouth against her nipple again isn’t and especially isn’t when she’s not nearly as clothed as before. His hand gently squeezes flesh in time with his tongue circling her hot against bright clothing, each nipple given attention until he can taste her expanding in his mouth.

 _Just give it to her_.

“Leslie…”

“Just do it,” she breathes, gripping his waist and pulling him flush to her.

“You're perfect,” he catches himself before saying it, but his restraint goes limp when her hand reaches into his open pants.

He’s fought against the threatening hardness for a few minutes, all the way back in her office. Now, her hand’s on him with a feathery grip, just barely touching him. It’s easy to fill her palm until she’s holding all of him and he’s worried about finishing just from her touching him. Leslie continues her hard won stare, and Ben leans his chin down to meet it.

His form fits against hers, his dick lining up with her. He has to dive in to kiss her, hold her waist, and touch her cheek as he does it, every inch of him willing itself alive at the contact. He remains only against her and sighing, Leslie’s hand working in idle strokes that he can barely register. All that matters is Ben’s pretty sure he’s going to get his fantasy fulfilled right here against this wall at an unassuming conference room in City Hall. He chuckles to himself, realizing that she’s almost asking to be caught. A moan escapes her and enters him the moment he lowers himself just ever so slightly.

His head sits at her, and she looks down between them with mouth agape.

“Now,” she whispers, mimicking him just minutes before.

Ben doesn’t wait. He’s never been good at it, anyways. There’s no time to wait when she spreads around him so nicely, and he barely even has to work at all to fit into her. Every inch of warmth is greeted by her small, high gasps that drive more blood towards his stomach until he’s fully within her. Kissing her neck, little things that barely hold either of their attention, he might have mumbled a word or two but the only sensation he can feel is Leslie expanding around him and the way she shakes when he slides back just a hair. She felt so good around his hand, but her pussy is feeding every nerve a wealth of goods he isn’t sure he can pay back and isn’t scared to admit that it’s okay if he doesn’t right now.

Another inch, and he thrusts into her. She isn’t lying down on a table like his dreams seemed to want, or picturing her on top of him, but her breaths are real and the way she reacts to him catching her mouth with his is very much there and perfect. Her hand goes to his stomach, wildly searching, until she retracts the one that isn’t pressed against him to her own. It drops just a bit and he can feel her fingers working with every push - a little circle where he presses against her as if she’s touching herself _and_ him - until Ben’s groaning out loud.

“This is worth it,” he manages to say, somehow. It might actually be a series of grunts, but that’s what he’s pretty sure he said.

“You are so worth it,” she gives back, dropping her chin to her chest and letting another - louder - sound escape.

“Quiet,” he snaps, unsure where it came from. Even worse, he cups her mouth and she screams into his palm. A fresh, wet and wanting sound that makes both of their bodies rattle.

“Mmmm,” she answers into his hand with the next thrust, each attempted syllable dragging and hanging in his palm.

“ _You_ are worth it,” he times with his hips, trying to figure out a rhythm of this angled thrust that makes her shiver and scream at once.

He finds it, one hand over her mouth to let Leslie be as loud as she wants and the other firmly holding her back. Stabilizing her, she only shifts a little with each slam until she’s moving against the wall and being put into it with every movement of his hips. His hands knew shapes and figures, little ways to work her already but it’s amateurish and workmanlike with only his basest finesse and desire. The way he wants to learn her like this, and master every inch of her until she makes these same noises _every single time_ , is much more precise and focused. Ben has to focus after all, because he’s trying his hardest not to come straight away, and think about each reaction and wonder how pushing just a bit further with _that_ angle changes her voice’s pitch or keeping close and having just _that_ distance to completely fill her makes her vibrate from chest to calves.

She finally quiets a little, likely with every successive noise taking more and more out of her, until she’s only whimpering into his hand. Taking it away, he drops it to her breast where he holds just under her and kneads as best he can with his fingers splayed towards her nipple. Her blouse ripples under him, breasts thrust forward into his grip until he can feel that shift of her muscles and her strained neck - the veins and everything - mixed with her odd, twisting figure. Lowering his head to where his hand sat, Ben gently nips around her nipple while trying to keep his balance and the pace.

“ _Oh_ … fu- _ah_ ,” she whispers, but the word dies out in her breath.

“Say it,” he growls into her breast.. 

Leslie lowers her head to look at him and her eyes are glazed over with lust, something else, and they stare blank. Another long, hanging groan starts in his chest from the same place that’s bleeding heat toward her and asking for every inch of her with each pump. He’s never been harder in his life, and Leslie twisting around him and every muscle of hers expanding and contracting and just being _there_ and with _him_ makes this almost too much. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Leslie lets loose when she looks up towards the ceiling and he can feel her release. That tightening, her body giving over to it, and then her voice hits a shrill peak that likely matches her own descent into blurry, mind-crushing madness. 

He doesn’t care to silence her, picking up speed until her ass slaps into the wall once and stays firmly there with every thrust. Ben never lets his touches fade, always keeping her held tight and working her breasts in light concert with his hips. Her hand slows down until she’s only really touching herself barely and Ben joins her, covering her hand in his and moving in tiny shapes along her. It brings her to another, tired sounding orgasm but he’s getting so close that it’s terrifying to think of anything else.

With one last thrust he has to pull out, soaked in her. Leslie whines as if being abandoned, and he can’t help himself but lower his hand at her waist and remove the other guiding her. He never moves his hand though, gently caressing her and feeling her wet and fat against his fingertips. Pressing slightly into her, she sighs hard and opens her eyes again. Staring into his, Ben only grazes her clit with faint touches.

“I don’t care,” she gets out between heavy breaths. “I want you; I want this.”

“Leslie-”

“Don’t say it, because this is worth it,” she repeats, taking hold of his cock once more and stroking him with more intent. “You’re worth it, Ben.”

“Ugh, _fuck_ ,” he barely mumbles, his breath caught in his chest because she curls her fingers in a cascade so that she’s around him almost entirely.

Leslie pulls him by his waistband, other hand still working in tight pumps, until they kiss harder and with less angry frustration. There’s more intent, Leslie working more speed into her arm until she’s using her whole shoulder and he has to drop his head into hers. His brain pounds with blood, filling his whole skull with pressure until that first pulse starts. He growls something, but isn’t sure what, and Leslie’s on her knees again.

Her mouth encloses his release, emptying into her again. She smiles around him, every vain, throbbing sensation spilling into her until she can stand up and clear her throat. Ben isn’t sure if that’ll ever stop being sexy, and when she kisses him again he’s sure _that_ will always be hot. After a few more moments, his hand lazily touching, she dresses herself and they’re both sweaty, out of breath, and staring. It’s either the worst idea of his entire life, hers, or both. Or it might just be the beginning of something way better than that, only that Ben isn’t sure anything he’s ever done makes him deserving of this.

“So this is a thing now?” he gets out in shaky breaths, watching her, staring if anything, as she gets herself dressed once more.

“Yes,” she answers back quickly.

“Can it be… more?” 

Leslie waits and then smiles at him, that same one from before that makes his brain do cartwheels and melt and everything else terrible romance plots tell him is supposed to happen. She leans forward and kisses him, and the tension in the air melts in that second. Ben's not sure what he did to deserve any of this, or to be here and now - and part of him thinks that this is all a dream and thinking is going to be so difficult at work - but there's that animalistic edge that doesn't care.

Breaking apart, he just smiles dumbly at her, her hair ruffled in the back and her clothes all a mess. Better yet, she’s still returning his grin and looks like she won’t bother letting it drop anytime soon.

“It’s… it’s worth the risk,” Leslie says before she rolls her lips and he goes in for another kiss, hating the distance between them in that second.


End file.
